Real Nice
by Tomo Trillions
Summary: [C/A slash!] Aziraphale discovers the risks of gambling with demons under the influence of alchohol. ^-^


Title: Real Nice   
Rating: R   
Coupling: Crowley/Aziraphale   
Notes: Plot bunny care of Kc on the Crowley's Angel's list, inspired by a picture (http://www.amberstone.net/kissy.jpg) drawn by yours truly. ^_^ Oh, my Ineffable Being, I wrote a HAPPY FIC (Yeah, whoever reviewed me and told me to write something happy, fine, have it your way)! The Angstmonsters will probably kill me for this. 

~Tomo   
www.amberstone.net 

~~~~ 

The angel staggered for a few more inches, then allowed himself a dramatic (not to mention graceless) fall into the plush of Crowley's thick couch. The leather creaked beneath him, and the angel giggled a bit sharply as his glass of wine righted itself and settled daintily on the carpet next to it's owner. "That's why I like you," Aziraphale noted, his grin spilling over his entire face along with an alcoholic blush. "You're so funny!" 

"Who says I was joking?" Crowley asked as he leaned himself over the back of the couch, staring down at Aziraphale through slightly blurred vision. Another long sip from his own bottle, and he grinned impishly at his angel through snake-like eyes. Aziraphale had somehow managed to sprawl himself out in the most artistic of manners, his expression flushed and his chest half-exposed through his button-down shirt. "You'd look good in a leather coat," - and nothing else. The demon didn't bother to supply that last comment, just cackled for a moment and glared at his bottle, until the container refilled itself. He felt like getting drunk. Very drunk. 

"No way," Aziraphale tittered, stretching languidly. "I know what leather is - I do - " 

"I do too!" 

"Dead animals, that's right. Totally dead and skinned and nothing else." He frowned prettily, and Crowley grinned wider. 

"But you'd look damned good. A jacket, then? Maybe a harness? A collar?" 

A blank look. "Harness?" 

Crowley flopped down next to the angel and cupped his chin in one hand. "What I'm saying, angel, is that you never try anything new. Ever. And..." The demon wracked his brain for a suitable expression. ".....it gets.... old!" 

Aziraphale rolled over and sat up, rubbing one eye sleepily. "Old? Well, it should. We're old. And I do too try new things. Didn't I go with you to that bloody horrible movie a few months back? Sure, I only went because you lied and told me it was a documentary, but it was new - " 

"It _was_ a documentary. Human teenage habits. American pop culture. Educational, you know." 

"Educational?!" Aziraphale choked and groped for his wine glass. "Wasn't nothing but sex and drugs and bad music..." 

"I wonder when it's coming out on video?" Crowley mused out loud, and Aziraphale sniffed. 

"That doesn't matter," the angel said with distaste, fingering the rim of his glass, which sung softly at the touch. "The point is I just like my orderly life. That's perfectly normal." 

"Orderly, hah, you're too chicken to try anything new - ever. When was the last time you... you.... Tried tempura? Went snowboarding?" He grasped at a few of his favorite hobbies and threw them at the angel. "Painted graffiti on the side of a grade school? Tripped a little child? Directed an old woman into an alleyway and chased her in a spooky politician mask? Hell, I bet you've never even driven a car!" 

"I have too!" 

"Shoved an old chic into an alley...?" 

"No! Driven a car," Aziraphale sniffed and gulped at his wine. Crowley wondered if he had hurt the angel's feelings. "I used to do it all the time." 

"When?" 

"Oh, you know, way back when," the angel said, apologetically. 

"Yanno, lying isn't your strong point," Crowley told his partner, tapping the angel on the nose. Aziraphale looked quite cute, his hazy eyes flashing with annoyance at the accusation. 

"I'm not lying. I can't lie." The angel's nose wrinkled and his glass refilled. "S'like you and love - I just can't do it." 

Crowley looked miffed. "Well, fine! If you can drive then show me!" 

"Eh?" 

"Show me! The Bentley! Right now!" 

"But 'm drunk," Aziraphale protested. 

"So?" Crowley asked. 

"S'not _legal_." 

"Have you ever done it before?" 

"Of course not." 

"Point proven! Checkmate! Fifteen love!" Crowley shook up his bottle and sent an arc of champagne splattering into the angel - who gagged and brought his hand down hard on the coffee table. Empty bottles danced at the provoking fist. "I'll eat my hat if you can even get the Bentley out of the driveway like this!" 

Aziraphale's eyes had narrowed in a manner much like that of a bitter, disgruntled, dangerous animal that was struggling to keep a polite, reserved mask on his bubbling hatred - exactly like that, in fact. Crowley didn't notice. "You don't wear a hat," the angel pointed out quietly. 

"Fine! My sunglasses! No - no - I'd even sit through one of those bloody symphonies you're so proud of if you can get it around the block." 

"You're on." 

Crowley waved a hand so theatrically that the liquid in his bottle splashed up and painted interesting designs on the wall behind the couch. "I'd even kiss your - _what_?" 

"I said 'you're on'." 

The demon's jaw hung open for a few moments as he searched for his wits - they had scattered like marbles on a linoleum floor. "I...didn't think...angels gambled," Crowley said in surprise. 

"This one does," Aziraphale shoved himself off the couch and wobbled towards Crowley's bedroom. The demon sat in shocked silence as the angel searched his apartment and returned from the closet wearing a blazing red silk shirt and a hefty black leather jacket and matching pants. "Hah. How's that for something new?" 

Crowley wondered where the hell the Aziraphale he had always known had run off to. Probably the same place his voice, wits, and self-control had chosen as a pleasurable summer home. 

"What if you lose?" The demon demanded when his voice returned. 

"I won't." 

"But if you do?" he insisted, "if you do, you're at my mercy. Got it? Or even better - you're my personal slave for a day," he grinned and licked his lips. Surely Aziraphale, even this drunk, couldn't miss what he meant by that! 

Wordlessly (his mouth was dryer than the savanna) Crowley pointed to his jacket, and Aziraphale stormed over, taking the keys out of the breast pocket. The demon sighed as he watched his angelic counterpart stagger out of the apartment - still far drunker than he would care to admit. 

"That's......real nice," he said approvingly, and snatched his sunglasses up before following the angel out into the night. 

~~~~   
~~~~ 

The angel's breath appeared in adorable white puffs as he glanced over the unfamiliar dashboard, his expression wavering slightly in the darkness of the car. "So...." 

"So?" 

"Er. So." 

"You were saying something about having driven before?" Crowley slurred, watching Aziraphale smugly through the lenses of his sunglasses. 

"Yes. Well. The keys....." 

"Are in your hand. Go ahead!" 

"You're....not buckled up!" The angel said, desperately glancing back and forth between Crowley and the elusive ignition of the car. Apparently that was all the time he needed, as moments later Crowley heard the familiar click of keys and felt the car spring to life around him as he buckled his seatbelt. 

"Okay, safety check complete, get on with it," Crowley growled. Aziraphale put the machine into reverse and took a deep breath, one that seemed to wish it had paid more attention to Crowley when the demon was playing chauffeur. With a hesitant grimace, the angel pulled his foot from the break, and the Bentley began to roll down the driveway. 

They had reached a roaring five miles an hour when Aziraphale panicked and slammed on the break, inching them further down the driveway at a snail's pace, his blue eyes glittering with determination - or maybe just a blood-alcohol content dangerously close to one hundred percent. Crowley shifted and glanced over his shoulder as the car ground to a disturbingly soft halt, and Aziraphale shifted into drive. 

Slowly they accelerated, first crawling past the mailboxes and picket gates, then picking up speed as Aziraphale seemed to get used to the machine beneath him. Crowley boredly settled against the window and watched his companion through half-lidded snake eyes, licking his lips. "C'mon, you call that driving?" 

"Sure do," Aziraphale glared for a moment, and the car jumped and sped up, alarmingly quick. They jerked around the corner, the angel turning far too sharply and sending Crowley slamming hard against the glass of the wall. The traffic ahead of them jumped here and there around their speeding form - the demon let out something suspiciously like a scream, and Aziraphale giggled, the sound tearing from his lips and racing out the suddenly-open windows. "You're right! This IS fun!" 

_"I'm burnin' through the sky yeah_   
_Two hundred degrees_   
_That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit_   
_I'm trav'ling at the speed of light_   
_I wanna make a supersonic man out of you...."_

A song came on - one by Queen, of course - and Aziraphale removed his hands entirely from the wheel in order to fiddle with the radio, turning the base up and beaming at the demon in the front seat. Crowley howled as the car jerked hard to the left and swung around, roaring through a red light and a flowerbed. The uprooted blossoms swept over the windshield and disappeared into the night - Crowley swore and tried not to be sick. "Slow down!" 

"You don't call this driving?" Aziraphale giggled again, and his voice had a drunken, shrill edge to it. "Okay! Slow!" 

The first thing Crowley noticed was the stench of burning rubber, as he realized blankly that Aziraphale had slammed on the breaks, as hard as he could. The last thing was that the car was flipping, and aiming unerringly over a large drop off on the side of the road. 

"ANGEL!" 

~~~~   
~~~~ 

"Wha 'appened?" 

"You crashed." 

"I...." 

"We're in the park," Crowley looked around, rubbing his eyes and groaning. "I mean, I think. Trees and stuff." 

"Trees..." 

Aziraphale sounded alright. Crowley sighed in relief, ignoring the throbbing of his head in favor of concern for his angel's well being. 

They were silent for a moment, and the car was filled with the sound of a can opening and alcohol splashing. "More, angel? Geez." 

"I can't believe I just crashed your car," Aziraphale murmured, blankly. Crowley smiled faintly into the darkness and righted the car, which had been sitting upside down crammed between two trees. 

"I can fix it," he promised, and did just that, eyes glowing for a moment as the car returned to it's usual pristine condition. Moments later he threw his attention at the guardrail and repaired that, leaving the two of them alone and undetected along the side of the dark duck pond in the park. "See?" 

Aziraphale stumbled out of the car and stretched his shoulders, taking another long sip from his drink. Crowley raised a brow and blinked - Aziraphale didn't usually go for plain old beer. Jeez, he was really smashed. 

The angel let himself collapse at the edge of the small duck pond a little ways into the park, roll once, and fall straight into the water with a yelp. Crowley smiled as Aziraphale made a show of flopping and wallowing in the shallows by the bank. "Nice. Real angelic.... And nice." 

"Shaddup," Aziraphale spluttered, standing slowly and slogging out of the pond, black leather clinging to him in a way that ought to be illegal. Crowley's grin widened. 

"Aw, angel, you're all wet! Let's get you out of those dripping clothes." Where had that come from, Crowley wondered? Probably from the part of his mind that was utterly floored by the appearance of a dripping, delirious, leather-clad angel. 

The angel looked up quite weakly and nodded. "Will you drive us home? I wanna sober up-" 

"Who said anything about going home?" 

Crawling out of the lake, Aziraphale looked too wet and bewildered to quite register that comment. As his mouth gaped open in shock, Crowley claimed it, barely able to contain his mirth (and amazement at his own bravery) as they kissed and he spoke into Aziraphale's mouth. "I won, angel." 

Silence. He reveled in it. 

For a long moment they stood, Crowley's hands keeping Aziraphale stock still as his tongue pried for closer contact, brushing across angelic lips, taking advantage of Aziraphale's confused, breathy question to enter and make a home there. The moment turned into a minute, and the demon ground himself closer, his fingers dipping up to the back of the angel's neck and nestling in his hair, stroking the base of his skull. The kiss seemed endless, unbreakable, and Crowley was just beginning to tremble when the angel gave a whole-hearted shove and slipped free. 

One long, shuddering breath later, Aziraphale was pushing himself away and staring at Crowley, unconsciously licking his lips. 

"Er," Aziraphale said weakly, even as Crowley advanced a few steps with a hungry expression on his face. "Crowley?" 

"I won the bet, angel," the demon responded, voice raspy. Aziraphale gulped. "And you're my _personal_ slave for a day." 

"I didn't mean that!" The angel squeaked, dismayed. "I mean, I didn't know you meant _this_-" 

"Well, I'm a demon, what else would I mean?" Three more steps and Aziraphale bumped into the Bentley. When the angel glanced over his shoulder at the offending car, Crowley pounced, pinning him sharply against the driver's side door with his hips. Coming in closer and ignoring the angel's intake of breath, Crowley whispered into his ear, hissing each word like a prayer or a promise. "It's not every day that I get an excuse to taste angel flesh..." 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest, but quickly emitted nothing more than a moan as Crowley attacked his ear with a vengeance, tracing the soft curves with his tongue and nipping lightly below the lobe. "Not so bad, huh?" The demon purred, finding his way down to Aziraphale's neck and driving his teeth against the pale skin. 

Heated warmth was curling in his stomach, and Crowley smiled a smile that could set ice ablaze. Aziraphale was trembling desperately, his hands clawing at Crowley's hair as the demon began to remove his leather jacket and run his hands further down the angel's backside. "C-crowley! Wait, please, w-wait- y-you can't ju..ju...just..." 

It had been quite some time, Crowley reflected as he began tracing his mouth down the curves of Aziraphale's chest, lips soft against the silken red shirt, since he had felt the urge to really seduce someone. After all, lust was an easy sin, and it was rare that anyone actually put up a fight - why argue against something that felt so good? But Aziraphale, unlike the millions of blustering girls and boys he had taken over the millennia, meant something more than an opportunity to enjoy himself. Bearing that in mind, he planted a kiss squarely on the angel's breastbone and looked up, restraining himself. "Yessss?" 

"I d-don't want you to...to...to do that," Aziraphale admitted shakily as Crowley slithered up his body and met him at eye level. "You can't d-do that unless you l-....lo...." he snapped his mouth shut. 

"Unless?" 

"Unless you really mean it," the angel finished lamely, looking away. Crowley paused. Mean it? As in, love Aziraphale, the prudent, gentle, _polite_ angel, working for The Other Side? For a moment he felt like laughing, but swallowed back the reaction. 

"Why? If you don't let me, you break your word and our bet," he said at last, finding that response to be safe. 

"I don't want to fall," Aziraphale responded promptly, his eyes wide and filled with fearful tears. Crowley kissed him again, nibbling thoughtfully on the blonde's lower lip as he considered his answer, ignoring the salty taste of tears as they hit his lips. 

"And if I did mean it?" 

A beautiful blush spread across Aziraphale's cheeks, and Crowley found the flustered sight to be wholly appealing. He kissed his way up to Aziraphale's innocent, cerulean eyes and licked the tears away. The angel shuddered in rapture, and Crowley grinned. 

"Lust is different than love," Aziraphale whispered. Crowley nodded. 

"I specialize in lust." 

"I can't lust." 

"But love?" 

"I...could love," the angel admitted, voice quavering as Crowley's hands slipped lower again, dancing across the flat of his stomach. The handle of the door was digging into his spine. 

"So love," Crowley hissed, his tongue darting over angel lips. After a long moment, Aziraphale tilted his head back again, and shakily set his hands on Crowley's shoulders as the demon's tongue flickered across his own, sending shivers wracking down the angelic body. 

As Crowley pulled Aziraphale against him and fumbled for the car door ("Get _in_, angel!"), he reflected on his situation. Really, he should have ignored the angel's protests and taken him then and there anyway - that would be the demonic thing to do - but the idea of defacing the innocence that was such a part of his angel's personality didn't quite appeal to him. However.... 

Something was nagging at the back of his mind. Crowley tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't disappear. 

"I won the bet, angel, so I'm in charge," he whispered roughly as Aziraphale kissed him softly on the cheek. His lips were full and soft, sedated and not seeking. Crowley resented him a bit for that purity, and pressed the light body into the back seat without a second thought. 

In moments Aziraphale found himself crammed against the not-roomy-enough back of the passenger seat and gulped as Crowley reached out to cup his face with fingers that seemed to be sprouting claws. Or was that just his imagination? 

"Take off my shirt, would you, angel dear?" Aziraphale flinched and raised a hand. Crowley beamed evilly. "With your teeth." 

"I-" the angel hiccuped, "I don't-" 

"Do you want to break your word?" 

With an expression that wasn't entirely miserable, Aziraphale bent himself and pawed at Crowley's front. The demon took one of his wrists in each hand and held him loosely as the blonde fumbled at the top button with tongue and teeth, his lips leaving wet spots on the demon's chest. In a final act of rebellion, the angel pulled sharply and Crowley gasped as the button snapped free, and the angel spit it out onto the floor of the car. 

He had just started on the second button when the demon's expression split with an aggressive grin, and he ran a long finger over Aziraphale's lips, parting them and slithering inside, smiling all the while. His eyes were glowing, as his hand paused over Aziraphale's lips, and then the sharp claw-tips pressed his mouth open. 

Aziraphale sputtered around the fingers and stared wide-eyed at Crowley. "Taste me," the demon said, voice caught between a request and a demand, as if he didn't quite know what to think of his own actions. And, if Aziraphale could have read his mind the angel would have realized that Crowley was just as disturbed by his reaction to the angel's proximity as Aziraphale was himself. 

Lust, not love, he told himself. Lust, not love. Not love. Not love. 

"I most certainly will not," Aziraphale tried to say, but it came out garbled around his filled mouth and Crowley's eyes half-closed as the words escaped. The angel felt claws pressing at the back of his mouth and tried to speak, dragging his tongue across Crowley's fingertips. 

The demon moaned ("_Love_ that... love it..."), and Aziraphale stared, speechless. What was _wrong_ with him? 

Crowley knew what was wrong. He was enjoying this too much, if such a thing was possible. He was finding it impossible to drag his eyes away from Aziraphale's full lips as they struggled to eject his probing fingertips. The warmth of his beautiful mouth filled Crowley with the most obscene of images, and he grinned blissfully, curling his fingers and sighing as Aziraphale's tongue wriggled against them in abject confusion. It was a parody of...other things. Things the angel didn't quite understand. Things Crowley suddenly wanted from Aziraphale - and _only_ Aziraphale. 

There was only one thing this coiling emotion could be, the demon decided with a sigh. He was an idiot. Well, he had always known that, but....whether this emotion was Ours or Theirs, he decided, he liked it. He liked Aziraphale... liked the high he was getting from simply touching the angel..... Liked Aziraphale's mouth, eyes, hair, his attitude, his sweet skin, his soft voice. Liked the way he put things in order as Crowley struggled to destroy them, liked his cute little dimples and his gentle laugh. Liked the way he managed to be disapproving and forgiving at the same time, liked his bravery, his penchant for old, soft leather-bound books. 

And now that he realized how much liked his companion, there was only one thing it could be. 

Crowley laughed harshly at his own sentimentality and withdrew his fingers from kiss-bruised angel lips. Aziraphale looked ill as the demon licked them clean. "You know what, angel?" 

Aziraphale met his gaze, blushing and terrified. Ashamed of his reaction. Crowley mentally kicked himself. "W-what?" 

"I think I love you." 

Whether he had fallen in love with the angel five minutes ago or five thousand years ago didn't really matter, though Crowley suspected the latter, along with a healthy dosage of denial. 

The angel's mouth dropped open as he realized what Crowley had just said, his expression adorable - rather like an old, worn teddy bear's. Crowley's heart was hammering almost painfully in his chest, and he kissed his angel's upturned nose with a lofty grin. "No. I know I love you." 

Aziraphale's mouth worked silently. "Oh." he managed at last. "Really?" 

"Really," the demon grinned rakishly. 

"Oh. Isn't that something," he sighed happily. "I love you, too." 

When Crowley tried kissing his angel again, he found that it was much nicer to have Aziraphale's full attention and respond accordingly. The angel beamed at him whenever Crowley came face to face with him, and stared boldly into his eyes as they kissed - testing, Crowley decided, the truth of his proclamation. 

Crowley had just managed to divest his angel of the pesky jacket and shirt, and had his pants halfway down his hips when a spotlight filled the car with light. The demon glanced out the window, narrowed his eyes, and the police car on the road above took the hint and burst into flames. An officer screamed. 

"CROWLEY!" 

"What? He interrupted!" The demon flashed a look of feigned innocence and yelped as Aziraphale wriggled tantalizingly in an attempt to escape. 

"You can't just...just..." One soft hand found the door handle and in a moment Aziraphale was squirming out of the seat and padding through the grass. "Someone must have seen the car go down and called the police. You can't get mad at them for that! It's being...nice." Crowley had a quick vision of a pale back and low-riding black pants before Aziraphale spread his wings (when had those appeared?) and disappeared. 

Moments later, the smoke billowing from the burning car vanished, followed by any trace of the policeman himself. Crowley sighed, guessing that Aziraphale had played with a few memories and erased the entire situation - and probably given him a new, more advanced squad car. Damned do-gooder. 

When Aziraphale reappeared, however, Crowley couldn't help but sigh in admiration as the angel returned to his side and kissed him softly on the forehead. "Let's go home." 

"What?" Crowley looked dismayed. "But...but I....we haven't - " 

"You have all day," the angel said with a brilliant grin. Crowley swore, hiked up his pants, and clambered back into the front seat. 

"You're cruel," he said, sulking. 

"And you're impatient," Aziraphale responded, smiling back at him with sparkling eyes. He looked so frickin' beautiful that Crowley wanted to be sick. Or rather, wanted to ravish him, and then maybe feel a little ill at the sugary-sweet adoration reflected in those blue eyes. It was going to take him some time, he realized, to come to grips with the fact that he was just as head-over-heels for Aziraphale as the angel was for him. 

"Guess we're even," Crowley sighed. "How long have you been sober?" 

"Since I feel into the water," Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley suppressed the urge to kiss his dimples. 

"That's real sneaky, angel." He turned the key, and the car lifted itself back onto the highway. "Real sneaky, but real nice, too." 

~~~~   
_(Author's note: Haha! Betcha thought that would get lemony - but no! I win! Grahaha!)_   
~~~~ 

Crowley slipped, fell, and cracked his head rather painfully on the ice - he lay for a moment, jacket slowly soaking through, as he came to grips with the implications of his fall. Paling visibly, he turned to Aziraphale (who looked perfectly adorable in a Christmas tree sweater and santa hat) and gulped fearfully. "Um," he said softly, looking around nervously for a means of escape. When in the world had Aziraphale learned how to ice skate? And why hadn't he ever realized it? Why the hell...heaven....heck was ice so damn slippery, anyway? "I guess that's it, then, huh?" 

"Yes," Aziraphale's grin widened, "I guess so." 

A pause. 

"I win," the angel added with relish. Crowley sighed, then blinked, and grinned. 

"Does this mean I'm _your_ personal slave for a day?" Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. 

"Bingo." 

Crowley perked up visibly at the prospect. "What're we waiting for, then? Let's hit the hay!" 

"Hay? Sleep, now? No no no, demon dear," Aziraphale smiled sweetly, and reached into his pocket. "I have tickets for the symphony." 

"What!? I thought - " 

"And after that an animal show, and then a musical, and then-" 

Crowley paled and flopped back on the ice, making a firm decision to give up gambling for good. 

"And _then_ we're going to stop by the Intimate Books shop, and find a copy of the Karma Sutra and see just how flexible you really are." 

Then again.... maybe not. 

~~~~   
~~~~ 


End file.
